


March Melancholy

by OTPsaisa



Category: Rurouni Kenshin
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sanosuke, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Sekihotai, Tears, comforting Saitou, just so much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 09:22:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27968237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OTPsaisa/pseuds/OTPsaisa
Summary: Through all the years of hardship Saitou had faced, March had never seemed as gloomy as it did now.Saitou returns home to find Sanosuke in mourning.
Relationships: Sagara Sanosuke/Saitou Hajime
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	March Melancholy

Through all the years of hardship Saitou had faced, March had never seemed as gloomy as it did now. The sun still set early in the day and as he reached the final leg of his journey, he found no warm glow emanating from within his home. Soft snow fell in fine wisps, clinging to patches of untrodden earth, and anyone unlucky enough to be caught in it soon found themselves chilled from the layer forming on their clothes. Saitou shook the dusting of frost from his shoulders as he reached the front entry, annoyed at the probability of an equally chilly temperature waiting within. Spring should have been coming, bringing with it new life and brighter days, but late winter was proving to be persistent and the dreary weather seemed to match the atmosphere of his home as he shut the door behind him. Removing damp shoes, gloves, and jacket, he stepped through the hall and into shadowed silence. It was unusual for his–no, _their_ home to be lacking so fully in noise and warmth; the preceding days had found him greeted by a tended fire, the call of his name, and a lean body wrapping around him with all of its strength but tonight, no such greeting came. Instead, a familiar scent drew him to the farthest corner of the house, growing stronger as he reached the last room; he paused before sliding the shoji open just a bit, eyes adjusting quickly to the growing darkness as the sun continued its retreat, and he held his breath at the sight beyond the door. 

Sanosuke, a man who often sprawled in an effort to take up as much space as possible, knelt in proper seiza in the dim light of a candle. Free of his jacket and sarashi, he sat half bare and so still that were it not for the slightest expansion and release through his naked ribs, Saitou would have wondered if he'd ceased to breathe altogether. He had not yet noticed the other's presence, it was unlikely that he would with his head bowed and back turned, and Saitou had no desire to reveal himself just yet. 

Not often was Sanosuke motionless, but in those rare moments Saitou found himself compelled to hold the words on his sharp tongue, teasing and sarcasm dying before he could part his lips. Knowing what he did about Sanosuke and his past, there was only one thing that could bring about such solemnity from a man so childishly boisterous. Saitou had also known from the moment Sanosuke had moved in, finally accepting his offer after months of consideration, that he was inviting ghosts from that same past into his home. The young man had wasted no time in claiming a vacant space for his own use; a small table, the only piece of furniture he'd brought along in the move, sat low against the wall and its purpose could not have been more obvious to anyone with half a brain. Though it lacked any cabinet or urn, it had taken on the look of every memorial altar Saitou had ever seen. Candles and incense adorned the surface, matches kept close by for lighting; a cup of water refreshed every morning, replaced with sake every night; a bowl, in pristine condition and reserved for that table alone, filled daily with rice (though it was eventually taken away and eaten since _"he'd be mad if I wasted it."_ ); and a nishiki-e, from the artist Tsunan, which left no question for whom the makeshift shrine was meant. 

Those objects had always made perfect sense to Saitou; the only ones that hadn't, at first, being the jagged chunks of rock and river stones which were now balanced atop each other in a precarious stack. Saitou had asked about those stones; they were odd to him as he could never quite recall rocks similarly used for any other memorial shrine he had seen but they too had come to make perfect sense once he'd learned their significance. 

_"If he hadn't thrown me over, I would've died with him. The riverbed tore me up really good and at the time I didn't know why, but it felt right to keep a few of the stones from that day..." Sanosuke's entire body was speckled in decade old blemishes, imperfections that Saitou had come to know intimately. The fighter clenched his right fist, knuckles shifting under scarred flesh, before releasing the tension to spread out and examine his crooked fingers, "funnily enough, when I got lost on my way to Kyoto, I found Anji in Shimosuwa, the same place I'd been thrown from that cliff. If Captain Sagara hadn't shown up, I don't think I would've survived. Even if it was just a hallucination, he saved me again, so I kept pieces of the first rock I pulverized because it made me feel close to him. Kinda silly, right?"_

It wasn't silly at all. Saitou could understand how something so simple could become so precious and he faulted him not for any of the tokens kept. He stifled the sympathetic sound that threatened to announce his presence and debated turning, walking away, to give Sanosuke privacy, but the further bowing of that wild head of hair stopped him in his tracks. He gripped the wooden frame and tilted his head as close to the door as possible, holding off an exhale as the sound of his own breathing had become unbearably loud in his head. No noise came from within the room, but Sanosuke's silhouette began to steadily tremble. The sight strengthened Saitou's resolve and he slid the door open, thankful for the smooth wood that made little sound. Socked feet padded across the tatami until he stood just beside the younger man who still failed to acknowledge his intrusion. 

It was not the first time Saitou had seen him paying respects to his fallen captain, but this was something different. From his vantage point, he could see the jacket that lay in a tucked bundle at Sanosuke's knees, the thick black kanji he wore proudly smoothed free of wrinkles; the red hachimaki, so rarely taken off, looped around the fingers of his folded hands and pressed against tightly sealed lips; the flickering warmth of a candle flame reflecting off of silent tears that fell from eyes squeezed shut. 

The torment of his youth held Sanosuke within its grasp, unyielding despite the years that separated the boy who had survived and the man he had become, and Saitou found himself at a loss. Proficiency in combat had always been something that came easily to him; government protocol was now second nature; but matters of emotions and heartache were fields in which he lacked expertise. It was Sanosuke–full of emotion enough for the both of them and then some–who excelled in comforting those around him; working the heaviness of a difficult case from Saitou's shoulders with deft hands and juvenile humor, holding close with strong arms as he kissed the furrow of Saitou's brow until he relaxed and–

Saitou could feel his own eyes widen a fraction as the answer revealed itself. He knelt, reaching out, and startled Sanosuke into looking at him finally, partially lifting his melancholy and turning it into confusion. Long fingers smudged the moisture from Sanosuke's skin as Saitou cupped the sides of his head and pulled the younger man closer, meeting him halfway. Cheeks burned under the touch of his lips and he pressed onward, fresh tears escaping as Sanosuke's eyes squeezed shut once more. Saitou banished them with all of the tenderness he possessed, following the droplets until gentle kisses were placed upon each lid; calloused thumbs swept away the remaining trails, caressing the high points of Sanosuke's face and willing the tension to ease. Deeply furrowed brows and a bare forehead were his next target and he covered them in feather-light kisses until the creases there smoothed. Sanosuke said nothing, accepting the affection with no resistance. Finally, Saitou's lips brushed against his lover's in a chaste meeting of unspoken compassion, meant only to calm the quivering he found there, before embracing Sanosuke against his chest and pressing another kiss into untamed hair, prepared to stay put until Sanosuke pushed him off. 

"I hate March." Sanosuke's voice was quiet, muffled from where his face was tucked against Saitou's neck.

"I know."

**Author's Note:**

> Don't mind me, just out here breaking my own heart. It's another sad one, but it helped give me an outlet for the mental health issues I've been dealing with lately. Found a kissing prompt list on Kashimalin-fanfiction's tumblr. "#39 - Kissing tears from the other’s face". I was planning on it just being super short and only kinda sad, but then it became even longer and sadder. Oops.
> 
> Goes off of the Sekihotai's end in the anime, not the manga, cuz in the manga Sanosuke wasn't with them and didn't get thrown off that cliff. "Sagara and members of the first unit were arrested on March 24, 1868 outside Shimosuwa and were sentenced to death by decapitation on March 26, 1868" -Wikipedia.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
